Dont Ever Change Unless It's For Me
by AmayaSora
Summary: HouseXWilson Oneshot Based on the episode Don't Ever Change. House's reflections on his life and his relationship with Wilson.


**O.M.G. **_**Don't Ever Change **_**was the ****best**** episode in a while… probably even the whole season. Especially if you look at from a HouseXWilson perspective. :P As the title suggests, this fic is based off of that truly amazing episode. **

**I wrote it really fast, so if you have a hard time understanding anything, don't hesitate to review or PM me!**

**And even if you **_**do **_**understand it, I'd love to receive a review with your thoughts.**

**-AmayaSora**

_**DISCLAIMER: **_**Don't own anything. Please don't sue.**

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Life seemed more and more like a novel lately. And not a good, action-packed, suspenseful novel, either, but one of the crappy, sappy romance ones written for overly-hormonal, disillusioned teenage girls. The kind he never read but knew enough about from half-forgotten English classes to pick up on the perfect parallels and the blatant symbolism.

The only was problem was that to acknowledge the parallels or the symbolism would mean he'd have to accept that it was put there on purpose, since he didn't believe in coincidences. And if he believed they were purposely put there than that opened the whole "higher power" debate, and _that _was a can of worms he's rather bury under six feet of concrete.

Which meant that he'd technically have to ignore the parallels, which he couldn't do because they were the things that were bothering him. And when he was bothered about something his leg hurt more, so he took more Vicodin, and _those _clouded his mind so the things that were bothering him before were left unsolved to bother him again later. And they always bothered him more if he ignored them, which left that out of the question, too.

There had to be some middle ground here, he knew it. The only thing was that he hated middle ground and so was (he cringed at the word that came to mind) inept at finding it. But he'd have to find it in order to solve anything. Or, maybe, he could simply gloss over that little technicality like he did so much else (rules, ethics) and worry about it later… or never, and forget it.

Where had this whole thing started again? He was prone to getting literally lost in his own thoughts and forgetting what it was that he was supposed to be contemplating. Oh, right, his life had turned into a novel. A crappy novel, not even one that could be made into a movie he could watch and analyze the characters that way. Because here the characters were himself, Wilson, the Bitch, Dr. Milton... well, they were the main characters at any rate. Everyone else was in there for filler people to give the world more dimensions.

And the worst thing was that he'd become the Hero in said novel, and not the cool Anti-Hero type like in Dostoyevsky or Kafka, but the vapid, stupid, annoying _Hero_ hero of almost every other novel in existence. He'd become… self-sacrificing (as much as he tried to deny it), almost _noble,_ and he'd allowed his feelings to override any sense of self-preservation or, heck, intelligence, that he had.

Even in trying to be a villain he had been sort of Heroic. He'd only pushed things so far, he'd acted cautiously, he'd meddled only up to a point. And then he'd acquiesced to the wishes (he couldn't even justify using the word _demands_ like he'd wanted to) of the enemy…no, Wilson wasn't the enemy, not really. As always, he was his own worst enemy.

Dammit, he had drifted off-topic again, but only slightly this time. Parallels, parallels… it was blatantly obvious that the Bitch was a female version of him, and not even a needy version, either, because Wilson damn well knew that he was as needy, no, more needy, than anyone in existence. The less obvious fact (that he'd only just realized himself) was that Dr. Milton was basically Wilson in female form, compulsively caring for everyone else before herself, even when it was hazardous to her health. Heck, she'd even done that whole psycho-analysis crap Wilson was so good at. So, he had liked Dr. Milton for the same reason that Wilson loved the Bitch (he wouldn't call her Amber, dammit, even in his own mind!): because they were the tangible incarnation of what they both really wanted but couldn't have.

But why couldn't they have it? Simply put, it was fear, his fear of rejection and of lowering those steel walls even a tiny bit, and Wilson's fear of hurting his friend, and himself as well. See, there was another parallel! Curse those stupid, stupid literary critics for ever inventing that word! Fear… of change, that was another huge factor in this, because no one liked messing with the status quo. Once he himself got used to the way things were, once he settled into a rhythm he could switch to auto-pilot when things got uncomfortable. But when the routine was brand new there was no way to drift through things without thinking, because no one wants to get caught in a status quo they're not happy with.

But he _had _gotten stuck in a status quo he wasn't happy with. He'd become a sacrificial Hero, and since then the novel of his life had become sort of like a horror-romance story, if there was such a thing. And that was bad, because at least in romance stories there was always a happy ending. But in horror stories (and real life, which basically was one anyway) someone always died in the end, and that certainly wasn't happy at all.

When did he start wanting a happy ending? He'd always figured, heck, planned on, dying alone and forgotten, and that had never bothered him. So what changed, and how did it change, and why wasn't he aware of it at the time? Questions leading to questions leading to questions, and not one answer in sight.

Did he really want answers, though? Because answers would mean confronting his full, unadulterated feelings head-on, and he hadn't done that in years. And that-

"Oh, for God's sake, House! Quit moping and go talk to him already!"

Cuddy stood in the doorway, folding her arms in an authoritative way. As per usual, House ignored her, but his train of thought was completely and utterly ruined. So now he'd end up starting all over, which was something he really did not want to do.

Cuddy sighed, exasperated, and stormed away. A mere minutes later she returned, half-dragging Wilson by the arm. "Here. Sit, talk, beat each other up if you have to, just settle this, please!"

After Cuddy left, neither man said anything, both feeling decidedly awkward. Eventually, Wilson ventured, "So, um, our hypothetical conversation the other day. About Amber and me, and you…"

"There's really no such thing as a hypothetical situation, you know." House jerked his eyes away from the floor to find Cameron standing in the doorway. "Any hypothetical situation that's posed is really a version of an actual situation the person's mind is contemplating, based on real events. It's an avatar of a real situation, you see? So since it exists, it can't really be hypothetical."

Both men stared dumbly at her, but she went on. "Oh! And even though we're told that things are never what they seem, in reality they are. People interact with people on the basis of appearances, and the other person _re_acts based on that. So, in theory, anyway, the appearance was basically correct all along."

"Also, even though luck is similar to God or fate or whatever in that they can dictate events, they're completely separate because a higher power implies that it's all been laid out purposefully but luck implies that it was random. So both can be important or fortuitous, and can be acknowledged and accepted, but for different reasons."

"It's all so much to think about, you know? In the ER today, this college tennis team was involved in an accident and the kids all talked to me about their theses while I treated them. There's those, and then someone is doing a paper about how the structure of a novel is based in real life. It's so fascinating I just have to tell the world!"

"Can you tell a different part of the world, perhaps? Somewhere that isn't here?" House snapped, even though his mind was deep in thought.

"Oh, were you in the middle of something? I'm sorry! I was just so caught up in the new learning, I completely forgot my manners! Sorry, sorry!" She had apologized sincerely and now hurried out the door.

Wilson and House sat in silence again, thinking deep thoughts. Eventually Wilson wondered aloud, "Why am I always the one who breaks silences?"

"Because you like your voice better than I like mine?"

"Maybe. Or maybe you don't like talking and are more than happy to let silences stretch on and on."

"Nah. I think it's the first one."

Wilson sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "So… now what?"

"How about… this?" House asked, leaning in to kiss his friend. When Wilson returned the kiss, House got the answer that mattered most. He could figure the rest out later.

-

Cameron smiled to herself, turning away from the only partly-closed blinds. _Job well done, _she thought to herself as she returned to the empty ER with a smile on her face.

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**Yay for more Cameron! I **_**love **_**her character; I think she's great (although not as a love match for House), and I also think she's **_**way**_** more manipulative than she lets on, especially concerning House. Hence the fic's ending. **


End file.
